


bound up

by MissjuliaMiriam



Series: Penumbra Smut [7]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Blowjobs, Consentacles, I don't know what else to say here really., Includes Art, M/M, Other, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissjuliaMiriam/pseuds/MissjuliaMiriam
Summary: Juno has tentacles. He and Peter fuck against a wall. That's it, that's the fic.





	bound up

**Author's Note:**

> My slightly-belated contribution to the Valentines Day 2019 Penumbra Tentacle Blitz. Thank you Sophie Kaner, this is all your fault. (Also thank you to Sarah and Jay for organizing!)
> 
> I really have no excuses, and neither do you if you clicked on this; it's not like the summary isn't clear.
> 
> Also, this includes art by the wonderful and talented [alecjmarsh](http://alecjmarsh.tumblr.com/) (Illuminahsti on AO3), whose fic and art you should really check out! Embedded at the bottom of the fic :D

Sometimes Juno gets into _moods_. Not often. But sometimes. Just _sometimes_ , he gets restless and and a little snarly and _close_ , wanting to be in Peter's face, near at all times. Peter thinks that the snarliness is Juno's natural reaction to whatever it is that's going on with the rest of him, which he thinks is less natural — but they've had two years together to gently poke and prod at the boundaries of where Juno ends and the ancient Martian _thing_ that grew roots into his brain and down his spine and around his bones begins. He's only a little different from how he was when Peter first met him, at least as far as Peter can tell. Most of the time. But sometimes.

Sometimes Juno can't stop touching him, can't stop from having his hands on him, and for several nights in a row Peter wakes with the black tendrils of Juno's unasked-for Martian gift twined tightly around him, holding him so close that it's as if Juno's now-Martian hindbrain wants them to join, to become one.

He wouldn't call it some sort of animal mating cycle, because it's not regular. In the last two years, it's happened six times, and two came two weeks apart; two others, six months. Instead Peter's running theory — not that he's expressed as much to Juno — is that it's more like the Martian instincts coming to the surface when Juno's own temperament shifts or his guard is down, trying to influence him into behaving toward his partner the way the Martians did. It partially works.

There's certainly one bonus. For all that Juno is usually grumpy about it, the touching is _very_ nice; Peter is the first to admit to being a tactile sort himself and enjoys the attention from his sometimes-reticent lover. Right now, Juno simply can't resist him, and it enables such lovely circumstances as the one Peter finds himself in right at this current moment: pressed up against a wall, Juno's mouth pressed hard against his and body-hot tentacles of soft black sliding beneath his clothes. Peter had said something teasing and flirtatious — he doesn't even remember what, it's been driven out of his mind _quite_ effectively — and a moment later he'd had Juno's ardent hands on him. He's rather pleased with himself.

Juno breaks away for a moment to demand, “Clothes off,” in a low, intent voice.

Peter shudders. Really, he _really_ likes these moods. He obeys quickly, stripping off his pants, and then the tentacles, still trailing across his chest and belly, flex and drag his shirt up; Peter lifts his arms and lets them draw the fabric away, twitching to let it fall to the ground once it's off his body. While he was stripping, Juno was doing the same, and Peter expects that Juno will take him by the hand and lead him to the bedroom — but he doesn't. Instead, he presses close again, and then those tentacles are wrapping tight and secure around Peter's thighs and lifting him off his feet. Peter's breath leaves him as Juno shoves him even harder against the wall, their cocks pressing together.

One tentacle shifts, coils along Peter's leg to tease at his hole, and he twitches. “Juno,” he starts, but Juno shakes his head.

“I can — I've got it. Just this, please,” he says, and rocks against Peter, their bodies rubbing and sliding. It would be better with lube, of course, but Peter's not arguing; Juno feels so good, and the slight pressure of that slim, smooth appendage against his ass is enough to enhance the feeling. He knows that Juno gets some sensation from them, too, that they're sensitive especially to warmth, and the other tentacles are seeking it, entwining Peter's limbs and slipping in to curl between their bodies.

Juno licks his hand and then reaches down between them to grasp both their cocks, and it's just enough wetness and pressure to make Peter throw his head back, moaning. Juno moans too, and not for the first time Peter is glad that the tentacles half have a mind of their own, or else he's sure the both of them would have gone down in a tumble by now. As it is, they're bound tight together by hot black ties that writhe and tighten, brushing across skin and squeezing. The tentacle at his hole slips inside, just enough for him to feel it, and he rocks forward and then back, trying to get at that and at the feeling of Juno's hand stroking their cocks together at the same time. It's so _much,_ and he loves it.

Juno's cock always gets wetter than Peter's, leaking precome, and that too adds to the slickness between them until skin is sliding easily; that's enough to drag Peter to the edge of orgasm. He feels like a dumb teenager, to some degree, getting off so easily — and then Juno's tentacles tighten around his legs and he almost laughs, because teenage Peter Nureyev couldn't have even _dreamed_ of this.

Juno seems to sense the direction of his thoughts, or maybe the wonder and laughter is showing on Peter's face, because he leans in to kiss him and tightens his hand and says, “Having fun?”

“ _So_ much,” Peter says, and means it. He thrusts up as best he can into Juno's grip but between the slight mismatch of their heights and the constriction of the tendrils holding tight to his legs he's trapped, bound, and he whimpers and relaxes into it. “I love you _so_ much.”

“Love you too,” Juno says, and then he twists his hand _just_ so, and the tentacle just inside Peter twists and flexes and Peter is just _gone_ , lost; he shouts as he comes and throws his head back so hard that he smacks his head on the wall and doesn't even feel it. He gasps for air as he recovers and then, once he's able to meet Juno's gaze steadily again, is lowered gently to the ground. His knees are weak, but he has no intention of staying standing, so that's fine — he sinks down, kneeling, and without hesitation wraps his mouth around Juno's cock. There are still tentacles twining around his arms and shoulders, across his back and so, so gently around his neck, resting there like a heavy living necklace of black heat. Juno groans as Peter takes him into his mouth, shifting forward just slightly. Peter moans around his cock, and with the hand not going to wrap around the base of Juno's cock he guides one of Juno's hands — not the messy one — into his head. Juno grips on, not too hard but enough that Peter can feel it, drawing another moan.

Peter sucks, his tongue working against the base of Juno's cock, and it feels like only a few seconds — though probably it's longer; Peter's convinced it's not long enough — before Juno comes. Peter swallows, dips his head down once more to clean Juno's skin with a swirl of his tongue, and then pulls away. Juno drops to his knees as well, his tentacles still writing around them both, though slower now.

“Wow,” Juno says breathlessly, after a moment. “Okay.”

“Mhmm,” Peter hums, feeling smugly satisfied. “I take it you liked that.”

“Always,” Juno says, and leans forward to kiss Peter deeply, uncaring of the taste of his own come.

They make out languidly for a few minutes, still kneeling on the floor, and then Peter draws away to say, “We'd better get up before your knees protest. Or your other limbs decide we ought to stay here forever.” He gestures at the tentacles with have wrapped around him again, trying to tug him closer; they've gotten into some very literal tangles in the past when Juno was paying less than close attention to his spare appendages.

“Right,” Juno says, and with a grunt hauls himself back up to his feet. He offers a hand down to Peter, and once they're both standing, kisses him again. “Bed?”

Peter glances once more at the tentacles, thinks about his plans for the rest of the afternoon, and then decides that he's got better ideas. “A nap does sound good. And then... well. Maybe some _other_ things.”

Juno rolls his eyes. “Insatiable.”

“Always, where you're concerned,” Peter says, winks, and then lets Juno lead him into the bedroom, one black tendril wrapped securely around his wrist.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like 45 minutes and didn't proofread, so if there's typos... I'm sorry.
> 
> And, uh, there might be an angsty prologue to this at some point? Anyways. We'll see.


End file.
